


under the skin

by emissaryarchitect



Category: Ava's Demon
Genre: F/M, also slight nsfw content but its mostly suggested, some body horror and gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-05
Updated: 2017-03-05
Packaged: 2018-09-28 10:08:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10090715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emissaryarchitect/pseuds/emissaryarchitect
Summary: becoming monsters





	

**Author's Note:**

> sort of a streamline thought fic. I could've put this in the "conglomerate" group but, I think its better standalone.

Ava’s teeth fell out.

Not the sharp ones, no, they stayed – but her flat teeth, her molars, anything that couldn’t _cut_ began to slip out of her gums as serrated bone pushed up, leaving trails of copper in her mouth. She spat up mouthfuls of blood and saliva as the fragile white bone scattered in the sink with a sickening clink, and she knew as long as the door was shut, no one would know.

No one would have to know.

She picked her teeth out of the sink and flushed them, and she wiped her mouth with the back of her wrist, shakily. Her tongue didn’t sit right behind her teeth anymore. There was too much space, and she observed with a sort of morbid fascination as harder teeth pushed up, pulling her lips aside with a forefinger and watching in the mirror as they settled into place like a heavy stone sinking into thick mud.

She ran the tip of her tongue along her new teeth, and startled when pain blossomed. She cut her tongue.

No one would have to know.

 

 

“Y-You’re not eating right.” His voice sliced through the room with an urgency and affection that startled her, and Ava swallowed hard and tried not to focus on his eyes.

“Its fine,” she insisted, pushing away her plate as the other hosts watched “my stomach is just feeling picky.”

She wasn’t lying. Breads, greens, anything that didn’t bleed made her stomach twist and her heart thump too hard, like she was trying to digest sand – worst of all, that’s what it felt like she was chewing. Gil was only getting better with his cooking, but as she stared at her plate, she couldn’t muster up the strength to eat any more.

Ava fled softly to her quarters, and there was a spike of panic when Odin entered, carrying a plate of meat. _He knows._

What was worse was that, somewhere deep in her gut, she knew that he would guess it. He was always good at guessing her needs, and though sometimes he was wrong, there was a heavy wisdom settled on his shoulders that constantly confounded her and spiraled her deeper into her carefully hidden admiration for the boy.

He handed it to her without another word, and she didn’t want to think about how good it felt to render flesh in her maw.

 

 

People didn’t look right. When Ava stared at Odin, at times, in the shadows, she could almost see the flash of veins under his throat, see the sluggish way his blood surged through his body desperately.

It was unnerving, unsettling, the same as seeing organs broken out of a corpse. It felt almost as bad as seeing Prudith in the gates – but Odin wasn’t raw, or crying, or bleeding. He was chewing on the end of his pipe thoughtfully as he drew, and she could track his heartbeat with pricking ears and inhuman eyes.

This was something the light of day shouldn’t see, but Odin turned and their gazes locked – his sharp, observant eyes, glittering darkly – and Ava could pretend she didn’t see anything.

She could pretend, and pretend, and hold the knife of her tongue behind her new teeth until her insides burned, but she still couldn’t deny that she had been watching his pulse for days now.

She worried.

 

 

She knew it was happening, and began to watch in a paranoid daze for any signs of the continued corruption.

As she slept one night, her fingernails pushed out and she awoke to claws. She hid the change through thick leather gloves and holding her hands behind her back, but she began to spot the little things inside her, signs that her humanity was slowly being burned away by the pact.

The cold hurt. Her skin tightened at the sensation of a brisk wind, and little tremors, like snarls, would sneak into her voice if she wasn’t careful. Odin had given her a startled look when she had laughed, and once when there was a musical giggle was now replaced with the sharp crack of laughter, like cinders snapping and popping in her throat.

She stopped laughing after that.

 

 

She could hear it, sometimes, when she fought.

Her axe. It would sing to her, like a lullaby on the battlefield – the shrill ring as it sliced through the air was the perfect note. Ava wished she could hit it with her own singing voice, but made due by drinking in its silent siren’s song when she fought – and that was so often, these days – she found herself smiling when her axe cleaved a head, its eyes shining and winking at her, and it wasn’t because of the blood.

A companion, a singer, something she could trust – it was so entirely awful that this weapon was crafted with Ava in mind. She needed comfort, and a sharp edge. The magic of the pact fashioned her ax in such a manner so that Ava couldn’t help but feel a little sliver of satisfaction when she summoned it; the magic in Ava’s blood made her axe something to look forward to.

Maggie asked about it.

“Why do you smile like that? Do you _like_ to fight?” She sounded disgusted, repulsed, maybe even a little accusatory; Ava opened her mouth to deny it, but her axe seemed to sing to her again, and she drew back.

“Maybe,” and her voice didn’t sound so much like Ava anymore “maybe I do.”

She didn’t have to let the key stay as an axe, but sometimes she would simply sit with it at night, leaned against it, like she loved the feel of the warm metal against her sure as a lover holding her hand, and she would simply listen. She would try to track the quiet notes of twisting magic in the air, and only find herself disappointed when it’s song wasn’t as loud or intricate as it was on the battlefield.

 

 

Ava stared at the night sky.

Her thoughts? She didn’t know where they were.

She tracked the stars and counted her breaths as her axe sang to her.

 

 

“You look a little more like Wrathia every day, you know,” Gil mentioned as he input the new coordinates in the ship. His eyes flicked over to her anxiously before he cleared his throat, trying to diffuse a possible anger. “I suppose – that’s because of the vial, right?”

_You’re not turning into her, right?_

_That won’t happen to me, right?_

Ava’s hand clutched her key tighter, and she forced her voice to gain back some of its human quality when she replied “Right… the vial.” She wanted to say she wasn’t disgusted by how pathetic Gil looked when he sighed in relief, but she was, and her axe seemed to mimic her response.

 

 

Odin had taken his vial. The resulting chaos almost matched up to Ava’s – _almost_.

They decided to wait it out, and when he had returned to them, his bones red and his eyes flashing like the heart of a garnet, slowly fading – for now, only for now –  Ava took his wrist and muttered “let’s get you washed up before you remember what you’ve done.”

She sounded almost like the Ava who Maggie knew, for a moment, and it was strange to hear that coming from a body so monstrous. The hosts watched as Ava dragged him away and cleaned him up.

 

 

Odin was quiet. Ava let him be.

Odin was eating less. Ava let him be.

Odin started wearing gloves, and Ava took his wrist and said “Share my room tonight.”

 

 

He was terrified of the changes happening to his body, and felt a tremor of relief when Ava didn’t ask him to talk about his feelings on the matter. She was good at reading him, to an extent, and when she couldn’t predict his thoughts she made up for her lack of insight with startling kindness.

Her bed was comically small. He couldn’t just squeeze onto one side and ignore her, and ignore her warmth, so he was lying on his side with his back to her, and their backs were touching.

He wanted to deny how comforting it was that, despite having the face of a monster, Ava would not treat him any differently.

 

 

“A-Ava?” she blinked awake as Odin shook her, fear trickling through his gaze, and he spotted blood slipping down his jaw. “M-My teeth… are f-falling out.”

Ava spent the next few hours with a stiff toothbrush, helping him work the remaining flat teeth out until only permanent red canines remained, sharp and nearly neon in their brightness. He had eased up as she was helping him, the comfort that this wasn’t _entirely_ abnormal releasing tension and fear from his taut muscles. He, too, watched as they pushed through swollen gums, and Ava shook her head with a helpless and pitying smile. His fascination was just as morbid and innocent as her own.

“Don’t move your tongue over them unless you want to get cut. You have to dull them down first,” she said aloud, picking his teeth from the sink, and he nodded silently. “Do you want to keep your teeth?”

“Wh-What? Why w-would I-” he shut up suddenly, tensing up, grabbing his face and stomping a foot against the ground in pain.

“Bite your tongue?”

He nodded, his eyes shut tight.

She found his new teeth to be endearing, because they were just as crooked as his old ones. You wouldn’t know it by looking, though; no, to the untrained eye he was a beast, and when he began to obsess over his reflection Ava took him by the chin and kissed him softly so that he might forget the copper on his tongue or the alien marrow invading his body.

Odin Arrow would soon be suffocating in a body not of his own, anymore, and Ava wished she could prevent it.

 

 

Sleepless nights grew longer. The bad grew worse.

Ava asked if Odin could hear singing when she fought, and he looked at her strangely through the corners of her eyes, so she shut up about it.

No one will completely understand.

Your body is betraying you. When was the last time you bled red?

Furtive, she glanced around, before slicing her hand open on the sharp edge of her weapon. Lava pooled up in the open wound and solidified like a scab, and she scratched at it angrily.

There was no more red left inside Ava, and a tiny part of her wished she had kept her teeth. Maybe then it would’ve been nice to have a reminder that she wasn’t always – this – _thing_ –

Odin slept tighter around her at night, body wound around hers, trembling. He was afraid, and she’d smooth his hair back and kiss his temple until he was calm enough to sleep. She was growing too close – an unforgivable weakness, pitiful, love is so tempting – but she didn’t pull away from his tender touch. Perhaps the last of their humanity could be scavenged between them, in kisses and nightly rituals.

 

 

She began chewing the inside of her mouth. Her blood wasn’t red anymore, but she could pretend it was when she could only taste its thick, metallic tang. She ended up biting her lip and Odin turned, cupping her face, and kissed her.

It was unexpected. She flushed and when they drew back from one another, Odin licked his lips.

She wasn’t the only one who missed the taste of her mortality.

 

 

“You and Odin are hanging out a lot more, huh? Because you’re both Vengess?”

Gil didn’t talk much to them anymore, so Ava perked up a little realizing his question was directed at her. His eyes flashed green in a way completely unrelated to fire, but they _burned_.

“That must be nice.”

Ava felt copper on her tongue, but she hadn’t bitten her cheeks. “Is there a problem?”

“No… No problem.” The lie was acid in the air, and it fizzled across Ava’s face with the confidence of a fist to the stomach. There was an unpleasant twist under her ribs when Gil and Odin were talking soon after, and Gil kept touching him – there was desire, there, but it wasn’t for Odin.

She ran her tongue over her teeth, and found with neutral revelation that it was taking more pressure to split the flesh. She was slowly being recreated from another animal’s meat, and it was making her stronger.

She grew bolder, or maybe more spiteful – it was hard to tell the difference between courage and stubborn pigheadedness, and if it was up to Ava she would say it was the latter every time.

Either way, Ava took Odin by the collar and kissed him, deep, feeling slices on her tongue where her flesh passed over his sharp teeth, and he melted against her. She glanced only once to Gil – _this is mine. Try and take it._

It was a very Wrathia thing to do, but for once, Ava didn’t care. This one was hers. She had very little in this world that she truly wanted and thought she could obtain, and when she drew back and there were stars in Odin’s hound-like eyes; a forgotten surge of warmth fluttered around her heart, blood pounding in her ears.

“Wh-What was that for?” He was breathless.

Ava forgot her possessiveness, forgot about Gil, forgot she wasn’t a _person_ -

“You,” she answered simply, and in a rare moment of affection and understanding, it was just the two of them standing at the end of the universe.

After all, if all that’s left is monsters, who is there to call them monsters at all?

 

 

The bad grew worse. The worse grew terrible.

Not even the song of her axe could stop the blood from stinging Ava’s eyes, but it hurt no less than the salty chemical burns of thick salty tears streaming down her cheeks at night.

Odin tried to help. He’d kiss her eyelids, murmur soft nothings into her ear, cradle her softly and open his carefully guarded treasure of a heart to her. His firefly, his Ava – it helped, sometimes, and when it didn’t, he was a silent observer and supporter as her hands wrenched against his shirt and she’d sob against him.

What were they doing?

What were they becoming?

She had almost forgot. This isn’t the life she wanted – this was _never_ the life she wanted.

Where was the cottage, the tall grasses – wildlife flitting around her ears – the daydreams of her and Odin sitting on a porch together and passing idle comments to one another as the smoky smell of almonds and pine clung to him as he lit his pipe? They were vanishing, clinking down the drain like scattered teeth, and Ava cried harder than she had in a long time.

 

 

She told him about her pact.

 

Ava was alone in her room for the first in months. She sat with her head in her hands, claws openly digging at the meat of her face, not-red and quite gold blood dripping onto her knees as she tried not to cry, instead dry-heaving.

He was angry with her. Furious, even – _betrayed_ – his words echoed in her ears over and over, cutting deeper and deeper.

_“W-Were you j-just playing with me?!”_

Ava ruined everything. That was her lot in life, that was etched into her skin and bone and in her heart. Maybe that was why she was so conflicted over how she wasn’t really Ava anymore – she was, but the girl who doodled in class was a far fetch from the current warlord and galactic criminal she was now. That Ava wouldn’t have relished in the axe’s siren song, that Ava would’ve told someone about her strange and new appetite, that Ava – _that Ava_ –

Odin… would’ve had better luck falling in love with _that_ Ava. She wouldn’t have kept her pact a secret, her wish to stop existing would’ve been well-known knowledge.

She especially hated how the wounds on her face were healing almost as fast as her claws were digging. She wanted the punishment to stay. She needed it to stay, because she deserved it, because she hurt the one person she had fallen so terribly in love with, and if he never forgave her – she would fall apart.

If he did, she would feel even worse, because she was a monster, and monsters never deserve anything at all.

 

 

He was angry with her for a long, long time. Ava didn’t count the hours, because his steely glare against the back of her head when she passed him might as well have been an eternity.

You don’t declare your love for someone and then reveal that you’re going to vanish. He had fallen in love with everything she wanted to erase about herself, and bitterness clung to the back of his throat in heavy clumps, preventing him from speaking.

The truly terrible thing about it was that he still cared about her. He still found his eyes tracing her wounds and sentences sat on his tongue – _Did you eat? Did you sleep? Are you alright_ –

He wanted to believe if he asked, he would be weak. Arrows were supposed to be stubborn, supposed to be set in their ways and he was _supposed_ to be mad at her.

He knew the truth, and the truth was he was a coward. He knew it when they had returned from another mission, and Ava was coated in her own blood. He knew it when she staggered and blood laced between her teeth and fell in heavy waves to the ground, and he hadn’t moved an inch.

It wasn’t shock. She had been through much worse.

It was because he knew if he leapt up to help her now, he’d be helpless to her forever, and he couldn’t stand that thought. He was supposed to be upset with her, but as her eyes inched shut and Gil dragged her into the medic bay, Odin realized he would never be angry enough to forget he was in love with her.

He still couldn’t say it, though.

 

 

“You and Ava aren’t together anymore, so what’s the problem?” Gil’s hand was pressed up against Odin’s chest, and his eyes narrowed.

“I d-don’t need a _rebound b-boyfriend_ , Gil.” His words were nettles, and the thorniness of his response caused Gil to frown, just a little bit – but it wasn’t enough to deter him.

He continued to touch, and flirt, and Odin wished he could find any small amount of satisfaction out of Ava’s pained winces whenever it happened, but he only found bitter disappointment when Ava didn’t step up and kiss him like she used to. Why should she? He had made it blatantly clear that he wasn’t interested in talking to her anymore.

Maybe that was where he should start.

 

 

Ava had her axe out, tracing her finger along its edge. Her faithful, terrible companion. Her _only_ companion. _Please, won’t you sing for me? Make me forget nothing good comes from my existence_.

The hiss of compressed air notified Ava that the doors to her quarters were opening, but she didn’t care. Her hair hung loosely around her shoulders, knotted in places, and the bags under her eyes were easily concealed by the fire in her skin.

She was exhausted.

“Y-You haven’t been sl-sleeping.”

Her heart leapt, and she struggled to keep it still – however, with how her form went completely rigid, she knew he had already seen her micro-expression of shock. He hadn’t been speaking to her for a while now, and she’d almost forgotten how much she loved his voice, demon in it or not.

“…No, I haven’t.” A beat. “Have you?”

Odin turned, looking to the side and frowning. He didn’t want to admit that he _had_ slept – albeit fitfully – when she had been tearing herself up over his anger directed at her. He should’ve known she’d internalize all the blame at herself, she did the same thing with Maggie.

Still, he had to calm himself and force his feet to move. She didn’t shift even slightly when he stood in front of her. His arms were crossed, and that felt too aggressive, so he let them hang loose at his sides – but that felt awkward. He was stalling. He was always stalling.

“Ava,” he cleared his throat, and he wanted to squat down to be in her line of sight but didn’t, because his pride was already about to take a blow to the gut “I... ab-about…. Our ar-argument,” he began lamely “ab-about your p-pact… d-do you kn-know the d-details?” His stutter was butting its head, harder and harder with each drop of sweat down the back of his neck.

She was unnaturally quiet when she responded “Yes.” He wanted her to be mad at him, it would be easier to deal with her fierce anger than this terrible resignation. “When I complete Wrathia’s task, my soul will be reborn in another body. Wrathia said I won’t have any of my memories, but, I think she was lying. She’ll probably use magic to repress them, or something,” she ended uncertainly, still not looking up at him.

“Wh-Why didn’t you t-tell me earlier? Ab-About your pact?”

She didn’t want to answer that. But he needed an answer, and though she might not get closure, she could give him the satisfaction of a conclusion.

“I didn’t think…” she inhaled, and steadied herself, and when she looked up at him to lock eyes, she sounded more like Ava than she had since making the pact – and that was in how weak she sounded, how exposed and trembling her voice was. “I didn’t think you would care about me long enough for it to matter.”

Odin blinked. Her words sunk in, and he tensed to reply something cutting, something curt, something that would be a knife buried deep in the meat of her matter to poison him like this – but her eyes were downcast and ashamed. She kept tracing her axe sadly, the movements more of habit than comfort.

She didn’t think he was shallow.

She thought she would mess it up before it got serious.  

She didn’t think it would last because of _her_.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered softly, and once again it was the two of them at the end of the universe. The room melted from around them, and Odin etched Ava’s guilt festered expression into his mind forever, as a reminder that-

_I did this._

“S-So am I.”

 

 

It was a careful subject to tiptoe around, but now that they were sleeping in the same bed again and sloppy apologies had been given, she was more relaxed, more open. He had found the worst of her secrets and when he finally accepted them, he began to see the little corners of Ava Ire she hid from him.

She spoke more. She smiled again, and though it was all sharp teeth, there was a clumsy warmth in her expression that gave him hope, and how sickening and desperate he must have been to have hope in a situation where their very births dictated their futures long before they could.

There were moments, of course, where she laughed as she was coated in blood, relishing in chaos and fire, but he couldn’t find himself repulsed when his actions were so laughably similar after he had taken his vial. It seemed that their traumas were compatible to that extent, as Odin was the only one who could talk her into a reasonable temperature, and she was the only one who could convince him out of his set ways before killing someone.

They were walking on eggshells, and they knew it. The pacts would not wait.

“I’ll th-think of something,” he assured her quietly, his fingers winding around her wrist – he touched her more. Pedri’s powers gave him the ability to strip life away from people like bark off a tree, violent, sudden, cruel – but Ava suffered no effects.

She kissed his palm, a surprisingly tender gesture, and even though he felt the brush of her sharp teeth against his palm, he didn’t care. It was a kiss from Ava, and he smiled all the same.

 

 

They had plenty of kisses, with sharp teeth, with blood in their mouths – with pecks on the cheek or along the jaw – but this was different.

With Ava draped on his lap, a leg on either side of his body, she kissed him as though she was going to die any minute. Her hands desperately pulled at his shirt, and his hands were grappling her hips as their teeth clacked and their tongues stung, and when Ava pulled away she whispered “Be with me tonight?”

He exhaled a soft “okay,” nodding “y-yeah…”

It was so _good_ , but so strange – they giggled and awkwardly shifted their positions in bed, as unexperienced teenagers would – but they also stared at each other in long, silent moments, memorizing the other’s face with the adoration of long-married couples.

Odin wanted to pull away. He wanted to believe this was their demons, using them to kiss each other, to be intimate, but Ava was kissing the shell of his ear and whispering her affection for him, and talking about flowers – and Odin let himself believe, in the dark, they were truly alone and truly safe in the other’s presence.

Pleasure pushed through them, swelling and receding like ocean waves – in the heat of the moment, he could recall the little things. Holding her hands above her head, how her throat flashed with fire when she tossed her face up to look at him, her thighs slick with sweat – her voice, cracking, _alive_ – “Odin,” the word so reverent on her tongue – the creak of the bed –

It would be this memory he would confide in when everything went wrong.

 

 

They had found a solution.

“I can’t ask that of you, Odin.”

“Y-You’re not asking. I’m d-doing it regardless.”

She sucked in a breath and looked down to her feet. Her toes were like thumbs now, with extra digits to grab and hold her enemies’ faces to the floor. However, they were still feet, and they were still an ample distraction from meeting Odin’s stubborn gaze.

“You’d be alone for so long.”

“I’ve b-been alone before.”

“Your family-”

“I’m d- _doing_ this, Ava,” he cut her off, snapping, and his snarl was red. She had to remember his bones were red now, and he wasn’t biting the inside of her mouth like she was. She looked back down and clenched her toes. Odin’s posture went slack in humiliation – he hadn’t meant to upset her, but this was his choice.

No matter how long it took.

 

 

Ava Ire finished her pact, and as requested, Ava Ire ceased to be.

Odin held onto her cooling, lifeless body with the desperation of a drowning man, his fingers grappling her shoulders, his face dipped into her neck as he rocked back and forth.

His pact wasn’t finished. It might not ever be finished, with what he had so foolishly asked for, but this meant there was plenty of time.

All the time he needed to try again – to find Ava in her new life – to offer her the helping hand she needed to desperately when she was younger the first time.

He would wait.

For now, he pushed that hope to the back of his mind and cried aloud, holding what was left of the only thing he ever really wanted.

 

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> 

 

The invitation was unexpected, but not unwelcome. She had been living in strained conditions for a while now, so when the Ad popped up and she was given the chance, she packed her bags and decided to visit this mystery location.

Many had been leery about just wandering about and exploring since the war all those years ago, but Ava felt no such fear. A couple people even asked why she would want to share a name with the monster that started and ended the whole mess, but, she didn’t know. She just latched onto the name when she heard it, and refused to be called by anything else.

Nothing else felt right. Sometimes, when people called her by name, there was a tickle in the back of her mind – a lure – the niggling sensation that something was missing, but she couldn’t pinpoint _what_.

If she ignored it, it would go away. That didn’t explain why she knew so much, though, or why she bit the insides of her cheek when she was anxious.

She was also strange in that she didn’t fear much. A few of her colleagues from work suggested she find a new living space on site, on the same planet as her main job, but she was sick of the city. Besides, the planet she had been invited to was off most of the charts, and though for some people that was a red flag, Ava considered it an adventure.

Her life had been dull, stressful, and more than a little mysterious. She often wafted through life like a breeze through a door, following through the motions while her mind was somewhere in the clouds.

On this planet, the clouds were vibrant, and not from chemicals. The sky was a rich indigo, the atmosphere a different make from other worlds. It was a far call from her home planet, with a stale blue sky and smog everywhere. No, she liked this.

She could drive a small carrier ship on her own, so, she only stared in awe from behind the glass when she landed at the home advertised.

This wasn’t an apartment, this was a _castle_.

Tall trees surrounded the area, but not wickedly – the tips of their branches wiggled in the wind, pressing, jovial – come inside!

The first sun was up at the top of the sky, and the other was at the horizon, making a strange perpetual dawn. Still, the colors were lovely, and when she picked up her suitcase and meandered out of her carrier ship, she was delighted when her shoes crunched dried leaves underfoot. There was only the distant chirp of the birds, but the wind and the noisy dried foliage underfoot gave the whole planet a secretly livelily disposition, like sneaking snacks under a desk at school.

She smiled and pushed her brown hair back with the flat of her palm, feeling the cool wind kiss at her cheeks affectionately. Could she even afford rent in a place like this? She must’ve gotten the location wrong, her galactic positioning system in her carrier must have been busted, but she couldn’t help staring. This was no faerie tale location, but it was alive, and away from the cluttered suffocation of the city, so she savored it anyway.

Besides, she couldn’t get in even if she wanted to. There was a pair of steely gates at the front entrance, painted black and dusty from the wind. The lack of leaves gathered at its base notified her that someone at least entered and exited often enough that the current autumn weather couldn’t sink its seasonal aesthetic into the property, but when she approached to admire the pointed top of the gate, shaped like arrowheads, there was a clicking noise and the gates whooshed open.

It must have been automated. She clicked her tongue and ran it along the edges of her teeth, a habit she had yet to discover the source of, but curiosity got the best of her. The worst that would happen was that the property owner would kick her out, and there was still the mild hope that this was the location advertised.

She stepped through the threshold of the gates, and they creaked a sigh, shutting behind her. That was unnerving, but the locking mechanism on the metal was a simple one, so she could bail in a pinch.

The door wasn’t overly intricate, but it was definitely impressive. Whoever owned this place must’ve had an affinity for bows or something, because there was that same etched arrow pattern on the wood – carefully, she curled her fingers around the silver knocker and banged three times on the door, before taking a step back.

What if no one was home? She kicked a foot and turned, looking around, blinking happily against the wind. This was refreshing – she could get used to this.

The creaky chirp of the door startled her, and she spun around hugging her suitcase as the doors opened. It was dark inside, so she could only see a vague shape before the stranger turned and clicked the light on.

She blinked as the light made her eyes prickle, but when they adjusted, she was surprised to find she wasn’t gasping or startled at the person in front of her.

His skin was sort of a purplish hue, and his eyes were strange – the sclera was bright red, suggesting inflammation, but since his iris was a cool purple, and red teeth peeked out from chapped lips, she realized he was an alien, or a mixed one at least. He also had little horns, cresting along the sides of his face like a crown, and he blinked in surprise.

He looked a bit like a monster. Ava didn’t mind at all, and in fact, she found her cheekbones flushing with excitement. Why was she excited? Why was her blood roaring in her veins?

“Ah – I’m sorry, is this the location advertised? On the, uhm,” she trailed off as the stranger’s eyes tracked her every movement. He looked _shocked_ , shoulders taut and hair on end like he was staring at a ghost, before blinking and clapping a hand to the back of his neck.

“Y-Yeah, I – th-this is the place. I w-wasn’t expecting…” he cleared his throat, and his stutter made her feel a little better. Not because it was humiliating, but because it was vaguely familiar, and a sign that he wasn’t as intimidating as his sharp red teeth. “I’m Odin, O-Odin Arrow. Th-This is my p-property.”

The name also sounded familiar. Déjà vu? She tried to distract herself from it. “The house?”

“The p-planet.”

Her eyebrows shot into her bangs and she was tempted to step back, but he opened the door wider. “D-Do you w-want a tour?”

She stared for a long moment. Her throat prickled strangely, like it should’ve been hotter, and she squinted, tilting her head a little. The world felt sharper and more real than it had in years, with this familiar stranger standing in front of her. He straightened up when she opened her mouth to speak.

“Hey… do I know you?”

Odin smiled, and something like an undefinable relief surged through his body as his shoulders eased down slightly.

“I th-think you do. St-Step inside, Ava.”

She followed.

She didn't even question how he knew her name.

“W-We have a l-lot to talk about.”


End file.
